


Merry Crisis

by pirateherokillian (Pirateherokillian)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28293678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirateherokillian/pseuds/pirateherokillian
Summary: Tis the holiday season and Emma can't help but notice that her neighbor Killian seems to be going through a personal crisis. Written for Captain Swan Secret Santa 2020, as a gift for carpedzem!
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68
Collections: CSSS2020





	Merry Crisis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carpedzem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpedzem/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, carpedzem!! I hope this fic lives up to all your emotionally angsty, pining neighbors with some Captain Cobra thrown in expectations!!

It strikes Emma that something is off about Killian, even before they wrap up the annual Nolan Thanksgiving get-together that David and Mary-Margaret have held in their apartment complex for as long as Emma has lived there.

Her usually flirtatious and outspoken neighbor becomes more and more subdued and withdrawn as the November afternoon passes by. By the time Mary-Margaret is pushing leftovers into her and Henry’s hands, Killian is hovering wordlessly by the door with agitation clear in the way his fingers flex and jaw ticks. 

It’s almost as if he can’t escape fast enough. 

“Killian seemed sad today, Mom.” Henry offers up to her that night as she’s tucking him into bed. And it’s no wonder her ten-year-old had noticed too. Killian, according to Henry, was the coolest person he’d ever known (besides her, of course). He never failed to show the boy all the attention Emma knew he deserved, and then some. Even with his quiet retreat behind his own apartment door after walking with them downstairs, Killian had given Henry a gentle hair ruffle and a half-hearted smile. 

She placates her son, telling him Killian is probably just missing his family on such a big holiday. And for all she knows, it could be true. In the ten months since Killian had moved in just down the hall, he hadn’t mentioned much family. Or  _ any _ family, for that matter. She’s thought to ask more than a few times, but having grown up in the foster system herself, Emma knows how awkward and uncomfortable a subject it could be. 

Henry takes the reasoning easily enough. She leaves him drifting off to sleep in his bed, closing his door part of the way before she moves towards her own room. She pauses briefly in the hallway, looking behind her towards her front door. For a moment, she considers turning on her heels and heading right out that door and down the hall. 

But the standoffish look she recalls reflecting out of Killian’s eyes just before he made his leave of them stops her. 

He clearly wasn’t open for talking about whatever was wrong and Emma didn’t want to be invasive. She didn’t want to give Killian any reason to stay away. At least for Henry’s sake, or so she tells herself.

\-----

A couple weeks later, Emma seriously starts to question that decision as it seems to not matter in the slightest. Killian is practically non-existent in their lives, a  _ vast _ change from how it had been for months, and it’s clearly taking its toll on Henry (and maybe her too, just a little - but mostly Henry, for sure).

She’s not having it. 

So she waits until Henry is off at school before she marches her way down the hall and slams her fist against Killian’s door. It takes a few long minutes before there’s any sign of life on the other side, and Emma doesn’t even wait for him to barely have it open before she’s barging her way inside.

“Look, Jones. I don’t know what the hell I did to piss you off so much, but taking it out on Henry by avoiding him too is not even close to fair.”

The words are out of her mouth before she even has a moment to spin around and face him. It’s not until she does that the rest of her defensive mother rant dies on her lips.  _ Not _ because Killian is standing there shirtless, with sweatpants hanging low on his lips, looking as if he’d just rolled out of bed to answer the door. No. It’s because he’s standing there, shirtless and looking like he’d just woken up, and it seems he’s carrying the weight of several planets on his shoulders. 

If she had thought he seemed far from his usual self-assured self back on Thanksgiving, there’s no doubt about it now.

“Killian, I-”

He smiles sadly and gestures towards his kitchen. “Would you like some coffee, Swan?”

Emma blinks at the invitation, her mouth gaping slightly. “I...uhh…” When Killian’s shoulders slump almost imperceptibly, as if he’s prepared for her hasty retreat, she hurries on. “Yeah, coffee sounds good.”

The smile on his face brightens a fraction and he gestures with his blunted left wrist towards the kitchen once again, letting her lead the way. She takes a seat on one of the stools at the bar that separates said kitchen from the small dining area, and watches him shuffle into the room across from her. 

She sits up a little straighter as she watches him freeze at the little pantry next to the fridge, just after he’s grabbed the canister of coffee from inside it. 

“Is…” He sounds hesitant, keeping his back to her. “Would tea be alright instead?” 

“Sure?” She replies in confusion. She keeps her attention focused on him as he nods erratically and snatches another canister out of the pantry. Without looking up at her, he makes his way to the counter she’s sitting at and hastily drops what she now sees is the empty coffee container there before frantically busying himself with making tea. 

While he’s got his back to her again as he sets the teapot on the stove, she takes a moment to really look around. The gloom she hadn’t picked up on when she barged in now seems impossible to ignore. The curtains are drawn tight, the only light in the whole apartment coming from the kitchen. She notes the blanket hanging haphazardly off the couch and the trash can almost full to the brim with empty beer bottles tucked away under one of the end tables. 

“You haven’t done anything.”

It comes so quietly from Killian that Emma almost doesn’t hear it. But she does and manages to turn her attention back to him in time for him to turn and face her himself. His brow is furrowed and his blue eyes look even sadder than they had when she burst through the door. 

“I.. I don’t think there’s anything in this world…” Killian starts, stops, looks away and lets out a frustrated breath, before returning his gaze to her. “I’m not the best person to be around this time of year…” Emma opens her mouth to respond, but Killian continues on quickly. “But you are right. It’s not fair to Henry. Neither he,  _ nor you _ , have done anything to deserve the way I’ve treated you.” 

He licks at his lips and blinks, and then nods. “I’m sorry, Emma.”

If she hadn’t already seen how much of a struggle it was for him to get the words out to begin with, it’s the use of her name that seals it for her. “Apology accepted…” He lets out a relieved sigh and deflates some, and Emma feels a little bad to continue on… almost. She did come here for a reason, after all. “If you promise to come by tomorrow and help us decorate the ridiculous live Christmas tree David got Henry.”

Killian’s eyes widen and she notices the way his fingers twitch at his side for a moment. But some form of determination sets into his gaze and she feels a sense of victory as a ghost of his usual cocky smirk quirks his lips upward at the corner. 

“Aye, I think I can do that.”

\-----

The victorious feeling stays with her as Killian holds to his promise and shows up the next night for the tree decorating. And the next night after that. And the next.

There’s still a sad cloud hanging about his head, and at times she can see him struggling to hold things together. But he’s back and he certainly does his damnedest to put a smile on for her son’s benefit. She knows a thing or two about putting on a brave face for her kid, and appreciates that Killian is willing to do the same to make the boy happy. 

The winning feeling sticks around until just two days before Christmas. She’s in her bathroom, brushing her teeth, when she hears shouting through the wall Killian and her share between their apartments. Spitting toothpaste into the sink, Emma frowns as she sets her toothbrush down and looks at the wall as if she’ll be able to see through it. 

There are two voices. One is very distinctly Killian’s, though she’s never heard him sound quite so angry before. The other is quieter, though certainly not quiet enough to not hear him at all, and she can hear the accent in his words even through the wall. Words like ‘family’ and ‘honor’, which makes Killian shout back words like ‘abandoned’ and ‘wanker’. 

Emma shuts off the sink and makes her way out of the bathroom. There’s no question in her mind this time if she should keep her distance. Something about Killian’s tone kicks warning bells off inside her, and she feels a concern almost akin to the kind reserved only for Henry set in. She slips into her comfy shoes and throws open the door, grateful that Henry is spending the evening with his friends before the holiday. 

She opens the door to step out into the hallway in time to see a man, slightly older with greying dark hair, step out into the hallway himself through Killian’s door. She freezes as she watches the man plead with who she figures is Killian through the doorway. Her assumption is confirmed when Killian’s sharp ‘Leave now, Brennan, before I make you.’ follows the pleading, before the door is slammed in the man’s face. 

Emma waits until the man sadly slinks away before exiting her apartment and making her way over to Killian’s. She stops in front of his door and raises her hand to knock, but pauses for a moment. Slamming from the other side of the door spurs her to finally tap her knuckles on the wood and she has to jump back as the door furiously swings open.

“Listen, you bloody worthless shitstain-”

Killian pulls up sharply as he takes her in, the vitriol flying from his tongue dying instantly. 

“Emma…” He practically squeaks out. 

“Hey,” She waves a little awkwardly. “I was just coming to see if everything was okay? There was…” She turns to look down the hallway in the direction the man had gone. “A lot of shouting?” She questions as she looks back to Killian in concern. 

The red on his face has only deepened, from anger to obvious embarrassment this time as he scratches at the back of his ear nervously. “Aye… that was…” Killian frowns and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, love, for the shouting. I didn’t wake you or the boy, did I?”

Emma shakes her head, frowning herself. “Henry’s not even home right now. Killian, if something is wrong-”

“It’s fine, Swan.” He offers her a grin that sets off even more warning bells inside her for how fake it clearly is. “I apologize again for the noise and I appreciate your concern, but I.. it’s…” The fake grin grows bigger. “Everything’s okay.”

Raising her eyebrows slightly in disbelief. “I heard a crash in there just now…”

“Ah, yeah…” Killian looks over his shoulder briefly to his apartment beyond and gives a dismissive shrug. “Just had a bit of a clumsy moment is all. I assure you…” He looks back at her again, that grin still firmly in place. “I’m tip-top, darling.”

His whole demeanor is throwing her off. It’s some form of his usual cocky self, only increased by a thousand. Like he’s putting on a front for her. She wishes he wouldn’t, but she’s not sure how to move past the clear impasse they are in. So instead she just stares at him for a second, eyes squinted in heavy suspicion. “If you’re sure?”

“Aye, positive.” Killian starts to ease the door closed. “I hope you have a lovely evening, Swan.”

Emma reaches out and stops him from closing it completely. “You’re still planning to come over for Christmas, right?” 

The question clearly throws him as he jolts after she’s asked it. Like the idea of doing such a thing was definitely not anywhere in the vicinity of his thoughts at that moment. “Ah… aye, of course.” 

“Killian…”

“I’ll be there.” He bites sharply and Emma can tell that anymore conversation is done for the night. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a mess to clean up.” With that, he does close the door pretty much in her face almost exactly as he had the man who had been standing there just a few minutes earlier. 

She wants to be mad at the blatant dismissal, especially when the distinct sound of the lock being turned into place fills the now quiet hallway, but all she can feel is an uneasy nausea building up in her gut. Despite his reassurances, Emma knows for a fact something is extremely wrong. And she fears that there will be far more of a mess made, both literally and figuratively, by Killian before all is said and done. 

Not for the first time in recent weeks, Emma wishes she had been more open with  _ herself _ to Killian. Maybe if she’d been more honest and direct with how she was feeling about everything, past and present, he wouldn’t feel the need to hide whatever he’s clearly going through from her. 

She makes a decision, still standing in front of his shut apartment door. Tomorrow she’ll get him to talk, even if it means she’ll have to talk a little more about herself than she has before.

\-----

Only Killian doesn’t really give her much of a chance to do any sort of talking the next day. She barely has much of a chance to really figure out  _ what _ she’s gonna say to him anyway when she finds him standing outside her apartment door after she’d gone to get the mail.

Emma looks at him, and his bedraggled state, before shifting her attention to the hastily wrapped gifts in his hands. “Hey…”

He startles, as if shaken from a trance, and turns his head to look at her with wide, sad eyes. “Oh… I heard you leave, and I thought…” Killian trails off as Emma continues to look from his eyes to the presents and back. He swallows thickly and shakes his head, closing the distance between them quickly.

She suddenly finds the gifts thrust into her hands and she struggles to take a hold of them while also keeping a hold of the mail as well. “Killian, what…?”

“I’m sorry, Emma.” He whispers dejectedly. “I… I can’t.” He moves to scurry past her before pausing. “Wish the lad a Happy Christmas for me, will you?” 

“Killian?” Emma asks worriedly, but he doesn’t waste anymore time in making his retreat from her. She spins on her heels as he stalks down the hall towards the stairs, trying to keep the boxes and envelopes from tumbling all over the place. “Killian, wait!”

He doesn’t. And by the time Emma gets inside, drops the stuff in her arms in the entryway, and manages to try and follow after him, Killian is nowhere to be found. She’s not exactly dressed for the snowy, icy conditions outside to be able to go looking off down either side of the street, and Henry is gonna be getting home any minute. She feels like she’s failed somehow, and stands with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, shivering as more snow begins to fall and tries to keep her tears from falling along with it.

The cold drives her back a couple minutes later, and Henry is soon to follow after that. He immediately questions the gifts left by Killian, questions if everything is okay and if Killian is still coming tomorrow. Emma hates how the lie tastes coming out of her mouth when she assures her son that Killian  _ will _ be there. She hates how the anger she’d barged into his apartment with those couple weeks ago can’t be mustered anymore, even in the impending wake of her son’s disappointment. 

She so desperately wants to cry, because of and for Killian. For Henry. For everything that has gone wrong lately that she can’t seem to fix. 

Instead, she holds herself together for her son on Christmas Eve, as they go through their usual traditions. The ones that were just for her and him. Henry senses her warring emotions, but doesn’t ask any further questions. Instead, he tries to make her smile as much as he can and Emma almost loses her will not to cry at just how selfless her boy is. The energy both are putting into acting like nothing is wrong clearly takes its toll on them both, and Henry is fast asleep in his bed barely past eight. 

Emma, for her part, finds herself curled up on the couch with a glass of wine in hand as she tries to make sense of the day. She really wishes she had some idea of how to get in contact with someone who knows Killian outside of their apartment complex. She briefly contemplated calling up David, but knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it from his wife, and then everyone who was anyone would know there was something wrong with Killian. 

And for as much as Emma feels like she may have done something to set Killian off, she knows gossiping about a situation she’s only sorta vaguely aware of will definitely make it worse. It’s bad enough every call she’s tried to make to him throughout the day has gone to voicemail, save one odd moment where someone picked up and all she could hear was loud background noise before the line went dead. Same with every text.

She’s just about to decide who she could get to come and watch Henry, so she can traipse out into the frigid night to see if maybe she could possibly find Killian, at one of the nearby bars or cafes when there’s a commotion out in the hallway. She’s setting her wine glass down on the coffee table and rising from the couch, as there’s a knock at her own front door. 

She makes her way towards it, frowning as an unfamiliar voice from the other side says ‘would ya stop bloody whinin’!’. Emma pulls it open to find a man she’s never met in her life with a closely cropped head of hair and an expression hovering somewhere between amused and aggravated. 

“Evenin’.” The man’s thick British accent greets her as she stares at him. “You’re Emma, right?”

“I am.” Emma replies matter of factly. 

“Bloody hell, I told you not to bother her!” 

The loud, heavily slurred voice of Killian carries through the open doorway and Emma’s out in the hallway beside the mystery man before she can hardly think about it. Her eyes go wide as she takes in the state of the man she’s just spent hours worrying about. If she thought he looked bedraggled before, it’s nothing compared to the Killian propping up the hallway wall before her. Or more like the wall was propping him up. Even from the distance between their two apartment doors, it’s evident just how completely wasted he is.

“Oh.” Is all she can say in response to the revelation.

“Aye,” The man standing next to her sighs a bit dramatically. “Right state that bastard is in, isn’t it? Told him he should’ve stopped a couple hours ago, but does the bloody git listen? And then he goes and loses his damn keys somewhere along the way…” He looks at her imploringly. “He mumbled something about his gorgeous neighbor Emma having a spare?”

Emma goes to reply, but is cut off before she can.

“Will!” Killian whines angrily from his spot against the wall and attempts to push himself off it. All he manages to do is stumble a few steps before collapsing sideways against his apartment door. 

“Bloody hell…” The man Emma assumes is Will grumbles before moving over to the struggling man and helping him stay upright. 

Emma doesn’t stay in the hallway to hear or see what happens next as she turns and darts into her apartment to grab the key Will had mentioned. She’s trying to keep herself focused on the task at hand, which is now clearly getting Killian inside his own place and sitting down, and not on the fact that he’d apparently told somebody she was ‘gorgeous.’ 

She doesn’t allow herself to think about it as she returns to the hall to help Killian inside, despite his drunken protests at her involvement. Not when she and Will are helping him to his couch, or when they are trying to figure out something to give him to sober him up a little before getting him to go to sleep. Not when Killian is suddenly stumbling to his feet and hastily ambling his way down the hall to the bathroom. Not when he’s collapsed in front of the toilet, expelling the clearly excessive amounts of alcohol he’s consumed. 

It’s only when he’s collapsed onto the tile floor, rambling drunkenly, that Emma  _ really _ allows it to sink in. Really allows the past several months, ever since he first charmed his way past her defenses, to really settle into the very heart of her.

“I didn’t want this,” Killian is crying softly into the towel Will had placed under his head. “I didn’t want her to see what a mess of a person I am, Will.” It seems he had forgotten she was also with them in the room. Or maybe it didn’t really matter at that point, the booze and the sickness taking its full toll on him. “She’s so amazing and her son is just… brilliant and I’m… Not. I’m just not.”

“Mate,” Will sighs sadly. He reaches out to give Killian’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Killian brushes it off angrily and struggles into a sitting position, flopping back against the bathroom wall. “No! It’s true! I’m just a fuckup like him. I run away when something gets too bloody good. And then come back like the damn useless mess that I am just to screw it all up! Just like Brennan! Just like... my father.” 

The last part comes out as a full sob and Killian pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his face in his arms as he starts to cry in earnest. And even before she can take in the pleading look Will starts to give her, Emma is moving him out of the way so she can take up the spot right next to Killian. She slides down onto the floor and pulls the shattered man sideways until his head is resting in her lap. 

He continues to cry from his new position resting against her, and Emma lets him. She sits and runs her hand through his hair, as he works through whatever heartbreak has been building up inside him. She doesn’t try to argue with what he said, all of which is untrue even if she doesn’t know the full circumstances of what brought Killian to such a state. Not yet, at least. She waits until he is ready to tell her everything. 

Which comes early the next morning, after Will has helped get Killian over to Emma’s apartment before taking his leave, and Killian’s gotten a couple hours of sleep in an actual bed. He’s still a bit on the worse side of drunk, but there is definitely a clarity to his words as he tells her about his life before she came into it. About the loss of his mother and the father who had left him and his older brother to fend for themselves afterwards. About Liam stepping up and taking care of Killian for most of his life, before a tragic Naval accident had taken him  _ and _ Killian’s left hand in one fell swoop just two days before Christmas some years past. 

“I was in… a terrible place.” Killian mumbles from where he is laying on his side in her bed facing him. He chuckles a little drunkenly and shakes his head. “Still clearly am. But a friend of Liam’s got a hold of me last year and decided I needed to make a change for myself.”

“David?” Emma asks quietly. 

Killian chuckles again and nods this time. “Aye, dear Dave. Told me there was a new spare apartment and that they were looking for a new harbormaster here in town. I… I didn’t want to take him on the offer, but honestly, I was drowning back in England and needed a change. I didn’t think…” He pauses and searches her eyes, a look of admiration shining there for. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I never intended for this all to come out… like it has.”

“What, that you have feelings for me and think I’m gorgeous?” She kept her voice void of any sort of emotion on how the question and whatever his answer might make her feel.

“Aye.” He sighs and closes his eyes. “All of that. I didn’t…” His eyes open again and it seems he’s settled on something in his mind quietly. “I apologize for any discomfort my rum-fueled words have caused and when I’m soberer,” He winces and makes a face. “I’ll take my leave of you and keep my distance so you don’t-”

Emma stops him by leaning in and planting a kiss on his lips. He tastes like toothpaste-laced rum and makes a noise of surprise, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he reaches out and draws her closer with a gentle hand to the back of her head. She hates to ruin the moment by pulling away, but Emma does a few moments later.

“I haven’t been worried nearly sick about you for weeks just for you to disappear right when I’ve decided I have feelings for you too.” She tells him seriously, her gaze intently focused on his still shocked one.

He blinks at her owlishly, mouth still slightly agape from the kiss and from wonder. “I… Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Emma reaches up and brushes the bangs back from his head. “Now we can lay here and you can keep talking if you want. Or we can get a little more sleep before Henry decides to get up and start Christmas, and we can have a good day, and get back to the personal shit later. Because trust me, Jones, if you think you have baggage…”

Killian takes her hand and gives it a light squeeze. “It’d be an honor to take on yours as well.” At Emma’s raised eyebrow, he frowns. “That came out.... I’m still rather... I think more sleep is probably wise.” He finishes with a sage nod.

Emma nods along after him. “Yeah, me too.”

Licking his lips, Killian nods again and as he shifts to settle into a more comfortable position for sleep, Emma moves herself into his space. His blunted left wrist comes to rest over her hip and he lets out a sigh that smells like rum just over her head. 

She waits a few moments as his breathing evens out. “Hey Killian?”

“Aye?” He mumbles sleepily. 

“I think you’re pretty gorgeous too.”

He presses a kiss into her hair and the smile she feels from him as he settles back in is the first real one Emma has gotten out of him since Thanksgiving. 

It makes her smile softly in return.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come chat with me about this story, or any of my other work, on my socials! My Tumblr is [pirateherokillian](http://pirateherokillian.tumblr.com) and my Twitter is [pirateherojones](http://twitter.com/pirateherojones)


End file.
